listen up my brothers

hello my denizens, my fellow coke line sniffers, beer bottle guzzulers, lady panty gatherers and earring stealers, and license thieves; oh the day is joyous my dear brothers . . . your magnetic boy poet has finally figured out what color his rukers are gleaming atop many ablaze oceans of sweet treats and dandy cakes my brothers. . . for starters i've had nothing special to brag about to happen to me in the past day since i made my last post . . . oh wait - i took a drug test the other morning . . . i stopped to have breakfast at an allnight diner before the exam. as i noticed the cakes in the diner: the blueberry muffins, strawberry lemon, chocolate desserts, all cozily snuggle for your dear poet; i noticed how polite and itty bitty nice the desserts seemed to be . . . winking at me even, giggling little cake laughters! inside thier glass warbly jar world, i gazed on a world of sweet offerings; tarts who get along so much better than the humans ever imagined possible. . . tv news blasted in the background (cnn) something about marching for injustices, hoards of black darkies, white spectators, but i stared at the deserts. . . i thought hmmm, three choc's, four lemons, two strawberry, choice, choice, choice, "what if the strawberry cake told the chocolate cakes to fuck off!" or what if the lemon politely asked the blueberry muffins to "go giggle his dingle berries & suck his slimy blueberry balls," but oh no no no my brothers! the cake world is far more sophisticated than us humanoids and arcane insult gluttons and ragamuffians . . . i realised right there. there will always be different flavors in life. . .my brothers, some may take chocolate, some strawberry, still some take lemon cake with thier coffee; eventually someone comes along and chooses you for dessert & eats you; i asked for the blueberry and had two cups of coffee brothers, two coffees of hot blackie licky! i felt like a wondrous deity harmonizing over a nice brew of black bean breakfast early in the morn, before the grey concreate stumping must continue silently, solemn . . . my brothers. . . staring at those desserts in that glass jar world, me the god Adonis, able to choose as he pleases, to put three creamers in my coffee as i please, me the jammy poet boy from your hard morning walky talky streets brothers, waiting to go pee in a plastic cup for jammy ladies . . . oh how i, your lovely narrator has felt so merry on so many occasions such as thus; to know and choose my brothers, i have no appologies whatsoever sharing with you my grand morn . . .